☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Providence
(1977) – A. Resnais
Another of Resnais’s peculiar
experiments in narrative form, teasing us to separate John Gielgud’s creative
will (he is a novelist) from his reality.
You see, everything that crosses Gielgud’s mind, as he comically and
profanely suffers terrible gastric problems, appears on screen. These thoughts,
enacted by Dirk Bogarde, Ellen Burstyn, David Warner, and Elaine Stritch,
involve his closest family members cold-heartedly inflicting terrible
lacerations on each other…and on Gielgud himself (to which he often protests --
his mind must be wandering). As in other Resnais films, the viewer must
continually struggle to make sense of the proceedings – and I can’t quite
guarantee that my interpretation is the correct one. To wit:
the final act of the film is suddenly an idyll, with all the characters
sitting down to a wonderful country luncheon for Gielgud’s 78th with
friendly frolicking dogs and a glamourous 360 degree camera move to boot. Miklos Rozsa’s score here evokes romantic
films of years gone by, whereas earlier in the film’s first half it was
reminiscent of his noir years; in either case, the score is cranked and
intrusive, surely another of Resnais’s conscious efforts to remind viewers that
all is fiction. In the end, you can’t
quite be sure which half of this story is reality and which is Gielgud’s new
novel, which is fantasy and which is anxiety fuelled conjuring. Of course,
neither may be the truth because the added twist is that Resnais wants us to
know that the real “fiction” he is focused upon is our memories of our own
lives, even as we submit unto death.
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